Scarecrow
by Gackt Camui
Summary: In his next life, he is a crude representation of his previous existence: frightening at best, but not dangerous.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or Gundam Wing._

**Scarecrow**

The high noon sun was unbearably scorching to the top of his head. Every few minutes or so, a hot, dusty wind would blow up and disagreeably rearrange each thick strand of his hair. Today, like every other summer day, he persevered in focusing his mental energies into his heavy, stiff arms, fully knowing they would never move again without outside influence. He tried, everyday, simply because the fringe atop his head was insufferably itchy and he wished to alleviate it.

His hair had once been a rich unruly cocoa. But for the last two years (or had it been sooner?), the high noon sun had consistently bleached it into a burnt sienna, the color of exhausted straw.

Then again, straw was exactly what his hair was now – crisp, parched straw. And the once electric blue of his eyes were now two jet black buttons, attached to the burlap skin of his face only by crisscrosses of thick twine. The sinewy muscles of his arms and legs had turned into dry wooden sticks, his callused hands into withered corn husks.

He wasn't sure when he had truly awakened into this backward existence. Perhaps he had always been this simple, lifeless effigy, and his short experience in the life of a martially trained combatant had been vivid dream. But he was sure that it had been two years ago that he became fully aware of _what_ he now was. He had no recollection of ever growing into a grotesque farm puppet – that is he couldn't remember having a childhood as one. All his memories prior to his sudden awareness had all been of a driven, physically demanding lifestyle. His initial shock had eventually worn off and he begrudgingly came to accept his fate. Now, his mode of living was effortless; the only demands made of him were to maintain his repulsive appearance. Unable to remain anything but erect, he was to instill fear in the pilfering crows – crows that were strangely fearless.

The irony of his situation was not lost on him. He had had a lot of time to think about his dream, his roles, and of karmic retribution.

Ahead of him,a gate squeaked open and shut. He looked toward the modest farmhouse. Under the shade of the porch, a girl waved.

Was it that time already?

Next to him, a stuttering tractor came to a poorly greased stop. The driver paused and swiped his arm across his sweaty forehead.

The girl cupped one hand around her mouth. "Papa, time for lunch!" She headed down the porch steps with an eager hop and skip.

The driver, 'Papa,' as he had come to know him, jumped off the tractor. "Coming," he called, and disappeared into the greenness of the cornfield.

When he looked back up to the farmhouse, the girl was gone. In that short space of time when his attention had been elsewhere, she had returned to her humble home.

Disappointed but unwilling to admit it, he glared with his big button eyes at a single crow perched atop an ear of corn.

Her name was Usagi, and he knew her name because her parents, the owners of this farm berated her so often. She had a younger brother, too, who was mischievous but practical. He was interesting to observe, because he held a remarkable physical resemblance to the himself of his dreams at that age.

Usagi, on the other hand, far surpassed her brother's entertainment value. He knew very little about the siblings' family background, but having little else to watch, had scrutinized Usagi's somewhat bizarre and whimsical personality. The houses were spread so far apart that she had very few friends; by the same token, she had devised other ways to delight herself. She would spend hours on the old tire swing next to the barn after school. After sunset, she would lean against the long stick that held him up and stare at the sky, tracing each brilliant constellation with her finger. Several times, she had spoken to him, divulging secrets amidst unabashed giggles.

She was perplexing, but with her, he never felt isolated.

Lately, however, he hadn't seen her as often. He couldn't speculate what had begun occupying her free time. A loneliness reminiscent of his first awakening had begun to return.

Ahead of him, the ears of corn shivered, displacing his rumination. He watched the lone crow raise its jet wings and take to the sky until it vanished into the blinding glare of sunlight. When he returned his deep-set glare back down, he _almost_ blinked.

Usagi stared at him with an obscurely thoughtful expression on her face. In her right hand, she grasped a straw hat. Slowly, she shifted her weight from leg to leg.

Finally, she placed her left hand on his wooden arm and rose to her tiptoes. She stretched her right arm and gently pressed the hat down on his head.

Almost immediately, he felt his entire burlap head cool. Usagi took a step back, tilted her head to the side, and nodded.

"It took me two whole weeks to make that, but it looks good!" she crowed with a sense of self-satisfaction he hadn't heard in a long time. "I have to get back to lunch. I hope you like it!" She twirled around and scooted back toward the house. He watched her until he couldn't see her anymore.

She was strange. But in the moonlight, she was also mystifying.

With his new hat and a new appreciation for the unusual, he waited for nightfall.

_AN: Huh?_


End file.
